Full-Time Runner

What I gained from taking three months off work to train for the Olympic Trials

For years, I spent my days maintaining a precarious balance between work, running, and home life. I was working full time, running 80-mile weeks, and commuting two hours a day. I rarely slept more than seven hours a night and regularly ate quick, and often unhealthy, meals in the car. A typical day started at 6:30 a.m. when I’d get up to run. I’d be at work by 9:00, where I stayed until 5:30, eating lunch at my desk. Then I’d drive an hour to practice with my team, get back in the car, and drive 45 minutes home. I ate dinner at 9:00, and finally got to bed by 11 or 11:30. The next day I did it all again.

Sound familiar? From what I’ve seen, it’s a pretty typical lifestyle for serious runners who can’t make a living off the sport. We know it probably doesn’t contribute to our goals of running fast times in races, but what else can we do?

In the fall of 1999, with the U.S. Women’s Marathon Trials coming up on February 26, I worried that my familiar pattern wouldn’t allow my best effort to come forth. I had always envied those runners who were able to put all their energy into training, without having to hold a full-time job. My husband and I sat down and seriously discussed my alternatives. For years we had talked, half jokingly, about my taking time off to train for the Olympic Trials. When we did the math, we figured out that we could actually make it work without going into debt. For three months I would live my dream of being a full-time runner.

December

From the log: Wow, is this what sleeping enough and eating right do

for you? I probably just ran the best workout of my life: 7 x 5-minute intervals at 5:29 per mile pace. A week ago I was struggling to just get out the door in the morning before work. Now, I can sleep nine or ten hours, have a little something to eat and do my workout when my body is actually awake.

Running at 9 a.m. feels like playing hooky, and to be honest, there is something about not working that seems so lazy. It’s ironic—feeling lazy when I’m running 100 miles a week! Is it my New England upbringing that makes me feel guilty every time I go to sleep when the sun is up? I am taking naps almost every day because my body seems to need them. I do nothing but run, eat, sleep and grocery shop.

Now a typical day is to get up at 7:30 or 8, run for an hour, eat my breakfast (an obscene amount of oatmeal and raisins), and be showered and dressed by 10. Before noon I either nap or read, then after a lunch of fruit, yogurt and bagels, I run a few errands. At about 4:00 I go out for another one-hour run. I have dinner around 6 and read or watch television until bedtime at 10.

I’m the type of person who needs to feel as though my life and the activities in it are valid and worthwhile. My family and other runners understand what I’m doing and why, and that helps reinforce my own belief in my decision.

But when a non-runner asks what I’m doing, it’s a different story. Without fail the person will say something about seeing me run in the Olympics. No, I explain, only three women (at most) will actually make the Olympic team, and my chances of being one of them are slim. I am hoping to run a personal best and place in the top 40. When I explain that I’d need to run about 12 minutes faster than I’ve ever run before to make the team, the non-runner looks at me as if I’m crazy. Why am I taking three months off, only to place in the top 40?

I face the fact that most non-runners just don’t get it. They can’t see how worthwhile and satisfying these three months are to me, regardless of what happens at the Olympic Trials. Thank goodness most of the people close to me understand that it’s the journey that’s important, not the destination.

On December 12 I run a 10K in Central Park, New York, at the end of a 105-mile week. I’m not too sure what to expect, but the taper of only eight miles the day before the race—after an average of 14 per day all week—seems to leave me fresh. I run a PR for the hilly course of 35:24, getting faster each mile. The time is only 17 seconds off my all-time PR, set on a downhill course six years ago. I’m really motivated now, confident that this no-work thing is truly helping.

January

From the log: This is my toughest week yet, and I’m at altitude—my brother in mile-high Boulder, CO has agreed to put me up. My training for the week:

Before I began my plan, I had known I wanted to train at altitude. My coach had urged me to ask exercise physiologist Pete Pfitzinger about the best time to go to altitude and for how long. Pete recommended going for four to five weeks, ending four to five weeks prior to the Trials, so I arranged to stay in Boulder from January 4-28.

I feel confident that the altitude is helping me. I am becoming stronger and have adapted to the thin air. My tempo run times, which were 5:54 per mile pace at sea-level, were about 6:10 to 6:15 when I first got to altitude. Now I am hitting 5:58 to 6:05 pace with the same effort.

I’m always hungry, and wonder if this is due to the altitude or just the number of miles I’m logging. I’ve been trying to eat a lot of iron-rich foods because I feel like I’ve got to help my body build red blood cells. I eat lots of spinach, trying to sneak it in everywhere. I’ve also been concentrating on getting more protein, since I usually eat meals sans meat. Tuna has helped, as have the edamame that I found in the health food store. These are blanched soy beans, which you can stick in the microwave for two minutes, salt and eat by popping them out of their pods. Nutritious, delicious and fun!

Boulder is a great place to train because there are so many people out running, cycling, skiing and enjoying the outdoors. It’s motivating every time I head out. Besides, the weather has been mild, with little snow, so the local trails are clear. It’s bitter cold back home in New York, so I’m even more thankful to be here.

Of course, I worry about injury and sickness. If I get injured will this three-month stint be for naught? I’m being careful about listening to my body to stay ahead of any setbacks. Still, I know that when all my eggs are in one basket, I need to protect that basket. I’m constantly asking myself if my basket has enough cushioning to keep the eggs from breaking.

I have mixed feelings about leaving Boulder. I want to stay longer because I feel like I’m putting in good work, but I look forward to seeing where the month of mile-high training has left me.

At the end of January I fly to Florida for the pancake-flat Naples Daily News Half Marathon. Because I don’t know what to expect from my body in the humid, warm weather, I start conservatively, and just keep getting faster, with my last mile being my fastest. I pay close attention to my breathing, which is very relaxed at six-minute pace. I feel very comfortable and confident running 1:17:29, almost a two-minute PR.

February

From the log: I’m back home, in the snow and ice. My last long quality tempo workout, 4 x 2 miles, went very well. My training partner, Greg, later discovered that we were running farther than two miles each time, making it even better, especially since I felt like I could have done more. My breathing felt very easy—must be those extra red blood cells from training in Boulder.

I’m in my last month of training, and other than not being able to find a track that’s free of ice, things are going fine. What I’m dreading most is tapering. I hate to taper, and it’s even harder when you’re not working because there isn’t as much to distract you from the fact that you’re not running and that your race is less than two weeks away. I use the extra time to do more yoga and mental preparation.

It was hard, at first, to come back home after being away for a month. That month all I thought about was what I needed—a very selfish existence. I had to reacquaint myself with living at home with my husband and taking responsibility for the chores I had left behind. Training is different when you’re responsible for more than your own needs. Ironically, compared to my harried routine a few months ago, even simple chores now impinge on my single minded goal. I now understand the attraction of elite training camps.

February 26: The Olympic Trials

From the log: The cold I caught three days ago left me a little congested. Even so, the race went pretty well for me. I started conservatively, thinking I would pick up the pace in the latter half. I didn’t really feel the temperatures that pushed into the 80s for a good portion of the race; maybe the Naples experience helped me there.

Still, the heat probably is partly to blame for my slower than expected splits. That and the hills. I wish I’d taken the hilly terrain more seriously in my training. My pace never locked into the planned 6:15 because the course was always going either uphill or downhill. I never made up the time from my slow start, although I passed a lot of worn-out runners in the last six miles.

I finished in 2:51:02, good for 49th place. While happy with the effort, I’m a bit disappointed in both my time—since I felt confident based on my half marathon that I could run a 2:43—and my place, nine women off of my top 40 goal.

Looking Back

So how do I feel about my full-time running experiment? Some might see it as a failure, as I fell short of both my time and place goals at the Trials. Yet I gained a great deal from these three months.

First, I realize what a huge role rest and nutrition play in recovery and training. Although I’m back working full-time now, I’m trying to maintain good sleeping and eating habits. Second, I find my body has learned to recover quicker from all those miles. After three days of no running following the marathon, my legs felt as though I didn’t run 26.2 miles at all. It usually takes me three months to feel normal again.

I’m still hoping to reap the benefits of this training, and I plan to be back in 2004 for another shot. I may not be able to put my life on hold for three months again, but thanks to my full-time running experiment, I now know more keys to getting into the best shape I possibly can.